


say please

by dustofwarfare



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ardynoct Week, Dirty Talk, Edging, Frottage, M/M, Pitioss dungeon, ardyn tops from the bottom, banter as foreplay, consensual bad idea sex, hand-wavey dungeon physics, handjobs, magic used as binding, messy sex, toppy!noct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 23:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: “You could say please,” Ardyn says, smirking at him. “You might be surprised what it gets you.”“Oh, would I?” Noctis drawls, hands on his hips. He refuses to jump up and bat for the Black Hood like some kind of hyperactive kitten. “How would you know? I have a feeling you’ve never said please in your life.”Ardyn’s smirk gets wider. “I’m perfectly capable of asking for something that I want. Provided the incentive is worthwhile.”(In which Noctis makes the incentive worthwhile. Alternately, The Fic Where Noctis and Ardyn Have Sex In Pitioss.)





	say please

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in Pitioss, and you can only do this dungeon AFTER you complete the game by traveling back to Past Lucis ™ and locating it via your flying car (ah, Final Fantasy, never change <3), so there’s no real time to set this that makes any sense in the main story timeline. 
> 
> Therefore it happens vaguely pre-Altissia, and despite the use of magic for binding, there's no non-con in this. It is, as my Ardynoct fics always are, best tagged as "consensual but probably a bad idea." 
> 
> Written for Ardynoct week 2018, Free prompt!

 

The first time Noctis falls off the rotating platform, he’s abashed, a little bruised, and annoyed.

The thirteenth, he’s so mad that were this one of his and Prompto’s video games, he’d have thrown the controller and rage quit by now.

By the thirty-fifth, he’s striking the inexplicably gravity-defying stone with the Axe of the Conqueror, having lost all sense of reality while caught up in a furious desire to _end something._

The Axe doesn’t end up with so much as a scuff, but then again, neither does the rotating platform. Noctis warps when he can and falls a lot. It’s not his finest moment, and the only thing that makes it bearable is the thought of finding the Black Hood, a fabled accessory that is supposedly hidden in the depths of the dungeon.

That, and the fact he’s in here alone as per the legend, so no one is here to see him stumble, fall, swear and push over ancient statues without caring about their historical value.

The entirety of Pitioss seems to have been created by a sadistic, puzzle-loving evil wizard with a fondness for spikes, optical illusions and old-school platformer video games.

Which is why Noctis is in no way surprised to get to the end of the dungeon and fine a very familiar figure leaning against the wall, smiling at him in apparent glee and twirling the Black Hood on one finger.

And it’s also why, when the figure drawls, “Why, you made it! Didn’t you just find this whole thing _exhilarating_?”, Noctis tries to set him on fire.

It doesn’t work, and Noctis blames it on being too winded and _pissed_ to aim the flask with any sort of necessary precision. Also, fine, maybe he shouldn’t set the Chancellor of a warring nation on fire without a few witnesses to say it was totally justified.

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” Noctis says, hands on his knees. “I bet you fucking _loved_ that _Dark Castles_ game. I bet you _designed_ that motherfucking thing.”

Ardyn blinks those lazy gold eyes at him. “I have literally no idea what you’re on about, Your Majesty.” He does sound confused. Noctis doubts he’s ever played a video game before, much less the notoriously difficult _Dark Castles_ , but still. It’s a valid point.

“Trust me, it’s annoying enough to be right up your alley,” Noctis says, stalking over to him. Ardyn holds out the Black Hood, and Noctis reaches for it. He has no illusions that Ardyn is just going to let him have it, and he’s right.

Ardyn holds the Black Hood up higher, and then higher. He laughs. “Oh, you’re so easy to annoy, Noct.”

“I just,” Noctis growls, “spent a whole lot of hours I’m never getting back defying gravity and falling a lot, and would you just _give me that_ –”

“You could say please,” Ardyn says, smirking at him. “You might be surprised what it gets you.”

“Oh, would I?” Noctis drawls, hands on his hips. He refuses to jump up and bat for the Black Hood like some kind of hyperactive kitten. “How would you know? I have a feeling you’ve never said _please_ in your life.”

Ardyn’s smirk gets wider. “I’m perfectly capable of asking for something that I want. Provided the incentive is worthwhile.”

Noctis glares at him, but there’s an undeniable heat sparking up his spine like some delayed rebound reaction from his earlier attempt at a fire spell.

“Why are you even here?” Noctis asks, keeping the Black Hood in the corner of his eye. He knows it is absolutely possible to get Ardyn distracted by encouraging his inherent passion for monologuing, so if he can just do that, he can grab the stupid thing, warp out of the chamber and get the fuck out of this dungeon.

But even the thought of having to go _back_ through the revolving floors and spike-filled walls makes him groan inwardly. Maybe Ardyn can be useful for once, and somehow tell him a secret exit that will avoid all the pitfalls of this place. Literally.

“I find the architecture fascinating, don’t you?” Ardyn shrugs. “Solheim had technology that was lost for generations, sadly, and still hasn’t been replicated successfully to this day.”

“Yeah, their spike walls and rotating floors were years ahead of their time,” Noctis says. He really wants to know how Ardyn got through to the end of this stupid dungeon and didn’t get a single tear in his coat. Noctis’s bruises were taken care of by the last elixir, but his clothes are dusty, torn and probably ruined beyond all sense.

Ardyn’s laugh, tinged as it always is with a slight bit of malice, echoes off the – thankfully _unmoving_ – stone walls.

“That’s not really an answer, though,” Noctis says. As if Ardyn’s responses to his questions ever _are_. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Maybe I wanted this stylish new accessory for myself,” Ardyn says, twirling the Black Hood again.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re not wearing enough weird crap with a hood on it.” Noctis ignores Ardyn’s snort of laughter and says, almost politely, “look, can I just have that? Or do you want to fight for it or something?”

“Your _Majesty_ ,” Ardyn says, hand on his chest. “Why would I want to do that?”

“I guess because maybe the Empire wants that thing,” Noctis says, pointing to the Black Hood he is still not going to leap for. Yet.

“Noctis, don’t be silly. There are hats available for purchase in Niflheim.”

Noctis sighs. “Look. I’m way too over it to deal with you. You’re annoying and you know it, so can I have that or not? Because if not, fine, but I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Ardyn’s smile is a slow, slippery thing that curves across his stupid face and makes Noctis’s eyes narrow and his cock hard. “All you have to do is say _please_.”

“Yeah,” Noctis says. “Not going to happen.” He pulls out a dagger and throws it, and maybe, _maybe,_ he aims it at Ardyn’s hat. Serves the asshole right.

***

Things don’t quite go as planned.

Noctis tries to get the Black Hood, but Ardyn is weirdly hard to pin down and Noctis ends up half-chasing him back through part of the dungeon. He’s pretty sure Ardyn is laughing, which is more annoying than every single rotating platform or spiked wall combined, but then there’s a jolt and something shifts and they go tumbling down into a chamber Noctis hasn’t yet been to.

For once Ardyn is useful, by breaking Noctis’s fall and keeping him from slamming face-first into the stone floor. He lands right on top of Ardyn, who makes an undignified _oof_ sort of noise that Noctis thinks, frankly, is a bit of an exaggeration. He’s not _that_ heavy.

But he _is_ beneath Noctis and _that_ gives Noctis the advantage. Which he employs gracelessly, grappling a bit with the sheer volume of fabric involved in Ardyn’s clothing and searching for the Black Hood. Which doesn’t seem to be anywhere.

 _If he dropped it, I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he’s the Chancellor of Niflheim and I’m the King of Lucis. We’re already at war._ Noctis glares at him, grabbing Ardyn by the wrists and pinning them above his head. “Okay, so? Where is it?”

Ardyn looks….totally unbothered by being pinned on the cold stone floor in some ancient dungeon. “Where’s what, then? Oh, you mean that Black Hood? Honestly, our little tumble didn’t change the rules, Your Majesty. When you want something someone else has, you say _please_.”

“ _You_ say please,” Noctis snaps back, like he’s fifteen and arguing with Prompto over a video game. It’s irrational and nonsensical, which means it fits in perfectly with the rest of his surroundings and this entire predicament in general.

Ardyn gives him that _smirk_ again, and maybe this time it’s a little wider because he can feel the result it gets out of Noctis, who does not understand – and doesn’t think he ever really will – this draw between them, this attraction that really should not be. Noctis can feel him draw a breath and is waiting for something to come out of his mouth that will be long-winded and infuriating, but instead, all Ardyn says is, “Make me.”

***

He has a lot of magic flasks in the Armiger, but most of them are offensive concoctions of fire and lightning. Still,  Ignis has always been a stickler for appreciating the subtle offensiveness of white magic so Noctis keeps a few defensive ones around just in case. One of them is enough to keep Ardyn’s wrists pinned above his head.

Not that he looks like he’s going anywhere. In fact, he gives a little experimental tug and laughs in apparent delight. “Clever. Binding magic, but not a petrification spell…that calls for a rather delicate touch. I’m impressed.”

Why the Niflheim Chancellor knows anything about crafting magic is just one more mystery Noctis doesn’t have time to solve. His friends are waiting, and he really needs – and wants – to get out of here.

“Great. So?” He waits. “You’re not going to make me search through your clothes, are you?”

“Is this about the Black Hood, then?” Ardyn asks, his gaze sharp. “Let’s not confuse what you really want from me with a simple little item, hmm?”

Simple? _Simple_ ? If Ardyn thinks getting through this fucking dungeon was simple, Noctis doesn’t know what to tell him. He doesn’t bother trying to say anything, though, just rummages frustratingly through Ardyn’s coat – which has _way_ too many pockets – and comes up empty-handed.

“Make me say please, and I’ll give it to you,” Ardyn says, so suggestively that Noctis doesn’t entirely know what _it_ is that Ardyn will give him.

But the erection Noctis can feel beneath where he’s straddling Ardyn’s hips says that maybe it’s not the Black Hood at all. And suddenly caught up in the sheer electric _power_ of having the infuriating Chancellor beneath him…he has to admit that maybe that’s not all he wants.

“Like I’m supposed to believe you,” Noctis growls, glaring down at him. He can hear his own breathing, too fast, and he shifts on top of Ardyn, hard despite his dislike. Maybe _because_ of it. Nothing about this makes any sense, but nothing about this happening is all that _surprising,_ either. There’s some inescapable gravity between them, like they’re a pair of stars caught in each other’s orbit and slowly heading toward an inevitable collision.

“That’s what life’s all about it, isn’t it?” Ardyn asks, his voice a low, gravelly purr. “Taking chances. Go on. See if you can get me to say please. I’m honestly interested in how you’ll go about it. It’s not a word I’m used to saying, you realize.”

“Uh-huh.” Noctis leans down, pressing his mouth to Ardyn’s. He smells good, which isn’t fair because Noctis is sure _he_ smells like dirt and sweat, but Ardyn doesn’t seem to mind at all. He kisses back easily enough, though with a bit of a bite to Noctis’s lower lip as Noctis pulls away. “You’re – why do I even want to do this?”

“Destiny,” Ardyn says. “Even if we wished to keep our distance, the fates would see to it that we meet. You and I, together in an ancient ruin of stone that belongs to neither of us. We are not meant to be long apart, you and I.”  

It’s the _way_ Ardyn says it that gives Noctis pause, because it’s without any of Ardyn’s usual smarm, his voice lacking that glib intonation that sets Noctis’s teeth on edge. His voice, honest as Noctis’s ever heard it, makes a low shiver of want go through him and gets his cock throbbing.

“What?” Noctis tries to focus on the strange words that should sound ridiculous, especially given who’s saying them, but somehow sound like a prophecy. Along with the lust he can’t deny, there’s a chill like someone’s walked cheerfully over his grave while whistling. He gives a slight shake of his head. _I’m as dramatic as he is._ “I think you’re just horny.”

“Well.” Ardyn’s smirk is back. “There is that. I have you on top of me, and what man wouldn’t respond to such a sight?” Ardyn’s voice still has that ring of truth to it, which makes Noctis somehow more uncomfortable than if he’d said it with his usual sneer. “Look at you,” Ardyn murmurs. “Heading alone into the shadows of the unknown, so convinced of your own divine right to succeed and thrive. How I envy that about you, Your Majesty.”

Noctis wants to laugh. Is that what Ardyn thinks? That Noctis hasn’t been terrified since the moment he saw the fall of his kingdom and the death of his father emblazoned on every newspaper in Lucis? Well. Let him think that, then. Noctis isn’t going to show weakness to Ardyn, of all people.

“And look at _you,_ ” Noctis says, shifting down to rub his hand boldly over the bulge in Ardyn’s ridiculous pinstriped pants. “So desperate to get laid, you’ll follow a displaced king down into a dungeon and barter sex for a piece of cloth.”

He means it more of an insult to get Ardyn riled than anything, an attempt to get Ardyn to stop talking about things that are making him uncomfortable in a way that has nothing to do with the fact he’s stroking Ardyn’s cock while magically pinning him to the floor. But it does something to Ardyn, gets his eyes narrowing, bright like the sunset on the horizon before the clouds turn red and burn like fire.

His mouth tightens, and he sounds almost _wrathful_ when he says, “Yes, well, I’ve made something of a habit of making disagreeable and ultimately futile bargains, so much so that I’m beginning to think it’s some sick addiction of mine. Now, are we to get on with it, or what?”

For just a moment, Noctis is more curious than anything about the man lying prone beneath him. Ardyn Izunia, the Imperial Chancellor who has been more helpful than he should be to the exiled prince of an enemy kingdom, had to have had some hand in the fall of Insomnia. And yet, instead of being home in Gralea ostensibly celebrating the triumph of Niflheim’s military might, he’s apparently chosen to follow Noctis like some vagrant around Eos.

Why? Why is he seeking to undermine the Empire? _Is_ he? Or is Noctis playing right into some nefarious plan for which he has no knowledge?

“I can practically see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours,” Ardyn says, and it’s clear he’s trying to cover up his earlier anger with his usual charm. But just like with Prompto’s cheerfulness, Ignis’s lectures, or Gladio’s gruff criticism, Noctis can tell when it’s not honest. “Enemies we may be, Noctis, but the plain truth is there is some attraction there, and we’ve the chance to address it before circumstances place us once more on either side of a dividing line we cannot erase.”

“We can do this,” Noctis says, grateful for the opportunity to turn things back toward sex and away from uncomfortable truths he doesn’t want to face. “But you have got to stop talking.

“Would it be terribly repetitive to entreat you, once again, to _make me_?”

  
“Yes,” Noctis says, and kisses him before settling so he’s straddling Ardyn’s thighs. “Now. You’re gonna say please, and you’re gonna say it so I believe it…if you can.”  


“Have your wicked way with me, then,” Ardyn says, as Noctis begins to unceremoniously unbuckle his belt. “And let’s see how well versed you are in the delicate skills of diplomacy.”  


Noctis rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer, choosing instead to get Ardyn’s cock free of his pants and underwear and begin to stroke it. Ardyn’s cock is thick and fully erect, flushed red and there’s no doubt that while he’s bound by Noctis’s magic he’s clearly not having any moral issues about being there.  


“Mmm.” Ardyn makes a sound, hips shifting. “That’s lovely.”

“Yeah? You think so, now,” Noctis says, thumb rubbing over the head of Ardyn’s cock. He keeps his strokes firm but slow, gliding down and up again, reaching up with his free hand to push his messy hair out of his eyes.

“Oh, I’m not sure anything you could do would ruin the satisfaction of this moment,” Ardyn says.

Noctis takes his hand away, watching in amusement as Ardyn’s cock twitches and he feels the slight upward press of Ardyn’s hips. “You sure about that?”

“What a naughty boy you are,” purrs Ardyn, and honestly that should really sound ridiculous -- and it does -- but somehow it just makes Noctis reach down and rub his own cock through his pants, needing a bit of relief from the strain of having it confined.

“If that’s your idea of talking dirty, no wonder you need to rely on sketchy hookups with your enemy in old dungeons to get any,” says Noctis, though he doesn’t think that’s true. Noctis was raised at Court, and he knows better than anyone the sort of privileges afforded easily to those with power and rank. And Ardyn is attractive, certainly; the body beneath all that eccentric clothing is firm and strong, his features arresting and unusual, and his voice might incite Noctis to violence but it also gets under skin, compels him to do things like what he’s doing right now.

“I’m something of a difficult man to impress,” Ardyn says, his voice going more breathless than taunting since Noctis resumes stroking his cock. “With a great many things on my mind other than the pursuit of pleasure, delightful thought it may be.”

Those things are the ones Noctis doesn’t want to think about, so he leans down and licks lightly at the tip of Ardyn’s cock. Even though it’s more than obvious that Ardyn’s into this, it’s still gratifying to taste the hint of precome on his tongue.

He doesn’t suck, just teases and licks and uses his hand when Ardyn’s cock is nice and wet. For a few minutes there’s no sound but Ardyn’s low murmurs and the slick sound of Noctis’s hand on flesh.

Noctis waits until Ardyn’s hips are pushing into his touch before he sits back to straddle Ardyn’s thighs again. “You wanna say please, yet?”

Ardyn’s eyes are hazy-bright. He shifts beneath Noctis and his arms pull against the magical bindings. “I don’t think...quite yet. But you’re very persuasive.”

Noctis runs a finger down the length of Ardyn’s cock and smiles when Ardyn can’t quite hide his slight gasp. “I should take a picture of you,” he says, licking his own finger. It’s a bit showy, but what the hell. It’s _Ardyn_. “And send it to someone in the Empire. See if they let you keep your job.”

Ardyn huffs a laugh, which turns into a groan when Noctis starts stroking him again, hard and tight. “Go on, be my -- ah -- guest. The Empire could use a well-timed sex scandal. Dreadfully dull around the Capital lately.” Ardyn’s tone is striving for light and congenial, but there’s a bit too much of a bite for him to pull it off. “But I think you might have a difficult time explaining how you came by a picture of me, bound and aching with my cock in your hand.”

Noctis sucks in a breath. “Might be worth it.” It’s not like he’s got a kingdom anymore in which his reputation matters. But bringing that up isn’t what he wants, so instead he just leans down and, without pause, takes Ardyn’s cock in as deep as he can.

Ardyn moans, and his hips push up, and Noctis hears himself choke on Ardyn’s cock but figures Ardyn won’t mind. “If only I could take a picture of _you_ , Majesty. No one would believe me that the King of Lucis is so lovely when he sucks cock like a whore.”

Noctis straightens immediately, and he leans in, getting a hand around Ardyn’s cock and stroking it hard and fast, like he does to himself when he’s right on the edge and wants to come. “Yeah? Well, I’ve got the Imperial Chancellor on his back moaning like one, so I guess we’re even. You want to come?”

Ardyn’s eyes are glittering. “Eventually. At his majesty’s pleasure, of course.” The words are mocking but breathless.

Noctis smiles and keeps going, staring down at Ardyn’s face as he strokes, harder and harder, and when Ardyn’s breath catches he pulls back and drops his hand, laughing outright as Ardyn’s hips push up into nothing. “Then say please, and I’ll let you.”

Ardyn remains obstinately silent, so Noctis -- having all but forgotten about the Black Hood and the dungeon and the fact his friends are waiting for him -- instead opens his own pants and takes his cock out, stroking slowly, throwing his head back and groaning. He makes it showy, mouth parted, eyes half-closed as he pleasures himself.

He keeps it up until he, himself, is close; his toes are curling in his boots, his own hips rocking as he fucks his own hand. He takes in the sight of Ardyn splayed out beneath him, cock hard and wet, Ardyn’s eyes a bright gold glimmer and his ridiculous purple hair half in his face. He looks disheveled and Noctis likes it, likes the fact he’s the one that’s put that expression on Ardyn’s face, that catch in his breath.

“Maybe I’ll come all over your smug face,” Noctis says, and then he has to ease up a little because the thought is so arousing, he nearly _does_ come. “And leave you here. Think anyone would find you?”

“Eventually,” Ardyn says, again, his voice a low purr. “But do as you like, after all, I can’t stop you, can I?”

 _He likes this,_ Noctis realizes. He shifts again, keeping his gaze locked on Ardyn’s and licking a slow stripe up his rigid cock. He sucks the head into his mouth and reaches down, rubbing over Ardyn’s balls, then lower, careful to note if this gets a reaction he doesn’t want. He likes Ardyn all panting and desperate, but he doesn’t want this to cross a line. He’s not interested in force.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Ardyn asks. “I couldn’t stop you, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Nah. I wouldn’t do it if you were just gonna lay there and think of Lucis,” Noctis says, and he’s looking at Ardyn when he says it and sees a flash of actual anger cross Ardyn’s face, so fleeting it’s gone in almost an instant. “Or Niflheim. Whatever.”

“I wouldn’t think of anything but you, Noctis,” Ardyn says, disarmingly honest, and Noctis shoves two fingers in Ardyn’s mouth to shut him up.

“Suck them,” he says, unnecessarily, because Ardyn starts doing it before the words are even out of Noctis’s mouth. It feels good, the suction and the decadent swirl of Ardyn’s tongue around the tips of his fingers, the sensation going straight to his cock.

He could, he thinks, straddle Ardyn’s face and have Ardyn suck him off. From the smug look on the bastard’s face, it’s exactly what Ardyn intended him to think about while licks and sucks Noctis’s fingers.

Noctis pulls them free, then drags them across Ardyn’s cheek just to be a dick. Ardyn’s nostrils flare and his laugh is tight and mean, but Noctis just flashes him a smug grin and crawls back down his body to get in the right position.

He’s careful with it, when he starts fucking Ardyn with his fingers; he starts with one finger, making it a tease, lightly rubbing and teasing at Ardyn’s hole while he mouths at his balls. Ardyn murmurs something Noctis doesn’t hear and doesn’t care about anyway, and then presses one finger inside and starts moving it slowly in and out.

He’s fucking Ardyn hard with two fingers, sucking him off with all the intensity he can, when he feels Ardyn’s thighs go tense. Noctis pushes it a little more, tasting the salty tang of pre-come before he pulls back and stops again. “So? You wanna ask me for it, yet?”

His own voice is harsh and low, roughened by desire, and his cock throbs between his legs. He doesn’t touch himself, though, because he’ll be damned if he loses the competition this has suddenly become.

Ardyn doesn’t say a word, which is a clear sign that Noctis has him right on the edge. His breathing is loud and uneven, and he’s not even trying to hide the dislike as he glares at Noctis from heavy-lidded eyes.

Noctis sits back on Ardyn’s thighs, his own breathing, wrecked, and waits. He enjoys the sight of Ardyn struggling almost too much, and it might actually bothered him if he wasn’t too turned on to care.

Noctis waits until Ardyn’s breathing has evened a little. “You’re pretty close. You don’t ask me, I might just finish myself off and leave. I’ve got stuff to do. So if you’re tired of waiting for me, you know what to do.”

Ardyn’s laugh is harsh and almost wild. “Oh, Noctis. You have no _idea_ how much practice I have, waiting for you.” He pulls at the magic binding his arms, fairly writhing, and the look on his face is caught between fury and exquisite pleasure. It’s a strange look. Ardyn is a strange man.

The words hint at that indefinable _something_ that Noctis never been able to figure out when it comes to Ardyn Izunia -- that Ardyn knows something Noctis doesn’t, knows _Noctis_ in a way that he couldn’t possibly. They’ve met a handful of times if that, and yet Ardyn acts as if he’s known Noctis his whole life. It’s an unsettling feeling, and he doesn’t like it.

“C’mon,” Noctis urges, rubbing Ardyn’s cock with two fingers, now. “You know it’ll feel good. Just say _please_ and I can end it for you.”

Ardyn laughs, again -- the same laugh. “If only it were that easy.”

Noctis frowns, but he shrugs. If saying vaguely unsettling things in the midst of getting a handjob is Ardyn’s kink, that’s his business. “If you want to keep waiting, that’s fine by  me.”

“Very well,” Ardyn says, after a moment’s pause where neither of them so much as move. “End my torment, King of Light.”

He is easily the most infuriating man Noctis has ever met, and would like it too much if Noctis told him that, too. “If you’re going to be dramatic about it, you can wait. That’s also not what you’re supposed to say.” He rubs a thumb over damp head of Ardyn’s cock, waiting expectantly. When that provokes nothing but a smirk, he goes back to stroking Ardyn with a harder touch and a closed fist. It only takes a few seconds before Ardyn’s pushing up into it again, hips nearly lifting from the ground entirely as he chases Noctis’s fist.

He’s so close, Noctis’s fist is wet and slick. He raises his other hand to his mouth, tugs his glove off with his teeth, then sucks his own fingers for a bit. He can feel himself rutting unconsciously against Ardyn’s thigh, rubbing his own hard cock on the scratchy fabric of Ardyn’s pants. It feels good. He’s close, himself.

It takes a few hard thrust of two fingers inside him, and another couple good strokes, before Noctis gets what he wants.

“Please,” Ardyn says, _finally_. It’s barely audible but the sound of the word shivers through Noctis like a caress, and he has to still his hips so he doesn’t come all over Ardyn’s leg.

“Please, what?” Noctis asks. He’s absolutely going to draw this out, both because it’s satisfying to make the bastard _beg_ and it’s also hot as hell.

“Please make me come,” Ardyn says, and okay, maybe he doesn’t sound like he minds asking as much as Noctis thought, but whatever.

“Let’s not forget who you’re asking,” Noctis says, which is not something he’d ever usually say during sex but seems somehow fitting in this particular situation, and with this particular man.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” Ardyn bites out, then says with an echo of his usual charming disdain, “please make me come, _Your Majesty_.”

It sounds kind of ridiculous, or it should -- but coming from Ardyn, in this moment, it’s enough to make Noctis nearly lose it. His cock is, he’s sure, leaving a wet spot on Ardyn’s pants. _Good._

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Noctis doesn’t wait for an answer, just fists Ardyn’s cock, twisting his wrist on the upstroke and timing it with the press of his fingers inside Ardyn’s tight, hot heat.

When Ardyn comes, he does so without a word; just a silent indrawn hiss of noise as his eyes fall closed and his back arches, and his cock spills in hot pulses in Noctis’s hand. His body jerks like Noctis has electrocuted him with a lightning spell, and he looks so human in throes of orgasm that it startles Noctis to realize that he’s ever looked any other way.

It takes a long time. When he’s finished and his body goes still beneath Noctis’s, his eyes blink open. His pupils are dilated, wide-black with a rim of bright gold. He blows idly at a strand of hair hanging in his face, since he can’t use his hands to push it out of the way.

As distracted as he is by the urgent need to come, Noctis finds himself reaching out and brushing the hair out of Ardyn’s face without thinking. He can’t help notice that Ardyn’s skin is smooth and dry, despite the flush on his face and all the effort of holding back while Noctis drove him to edge and back. There’s not a hint of sweat, which is weird. The same definitely can’t be said for Noctis.

The light touch of his fingers brushing Ardyn’s hair back is the first thing Noctis has done that’s made Ardyn flinch.

Noctis is suddenly ready to be out of here, and it’s not just because he wants to get off. There’s a strange heaviness in the air around them that wasn’t there before, something that lends credence to Ardyn’s words about how they’re fated never to be too far from each other.

“Well, then,” Ardyn says, having found his voice at last. The smile on his face is deeply unpleasant. “Is this how you would end it? Your own pleasure denied?”

“Yeah, no,” Noctis says, shaking off the odd discomfort and moving once more so he can press his own erection against the softening length of Ardyn’s. He thrusts his hips, arms braced on either side of Ardyn’s head, and rubs himself against both Ardyn’s cock and the mess on his stomach, the fabric of clothing that wasn’t sufficiently moved out of the way, and is panting in seconds.

Ardyn pushes his hips up, offering some assistance as Noctis rubs off on him. He thinks about fucking Ardyn, either his hole or his mouth, but in the end he doesn’t think he can wait long enough to do either.

Ardyn gives a quiet sigh, and Noctis’s face is pressed against his shoulder while he works his hips in frantic thrusts, grinding hard and shuddering as he nears the edge. “Go on, then, young king. Take your pleasure of me, hmm? Leave your mark all over me, as I’ve left mine on you.”

 _You haven’t put a scratch on me,_ Noctis thinks, but orgasm shivers over him and he stops thinking about Ardyn being weird, which like the sun rising in the morning, seems to be a given.

He moans; it feels so good to let go, to come, and to know he’s made a mess of Ardyn’s clothes. It’s not like anyone will notice, given what a disaster they usually are.

When it’s over, he breathes in Ardyn’s scent, something sharp and cold that reminds him of his favorite daggers tucked away in his armiger. He feels something in his hair and startles -- his first thought is some small daemon has landed on his head -- but then he realizes it’s Ardyn’s fingers, sliding through Noctis’s sweaty hair.

It feels good, right up until the moment Noctis remembers that Ardyn shouldn’t be able to touch him because his arms are bound. He jerks his head up, glaring and scrambling off Ardyn as he hastily tucks himself back in his pants and does up the buttons. “Spell must have worn off.”

He doesn’t think that’s actually possible, but like hell is he going to let Ardyn know that.

“Oh, Noctis,” Ardyn says, smiling at him like he’s just done well on an exam he didn’t know he was taking. “If you want to think that, go ahead.” Unlike Noctis, he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to fix himself up or clean himself. He stretches like a cat, arms settled behind his head like he has all the time in the world and doesn’t plan on going anywhere until he has a nice, long nap.

Noctis wouldn’t mind a nap, himself, but it won’t be anywhere near this dungeon or the bizarrely attractive madman lying on the ground. He leaps to his feet and slides a hand through his hair, his back to Ardyn, wondering if there’s an easier way out of this dungeon that going back the way he came. He should have asked when he had Ardyn panting and gasping. Asking _now_ feels like losing.

Ardyn has to know. There’s no way he got down here without some easier passageway; it’s not like Ardyn could warp his way through like Noctis, right?

“Here you are.”

Noctis is so startled by the voice so close to him that he jumps. Somehow Ardyn has managed to get up and move _right behind him_ , so quickly and so quietly that Noctis hasn’t even noticed. He’s also dangling something over Noctis’s shoulder -- something black, made out of fabric. The Black Hood.

Noctis grabs it out of instinct and whirls around, but he doesn’t tuck the prized thing into his armiger. Some inherent sense of fairness ingrained by his years and years of playing video

games with Prompto has him saying, “You did get here first. The rule of dungeon pillaging says it’s yours.”

Ardyn smiles. He’s all put together, pants done up, and -- wait, is that his hat? How? Noctis is nearly certain that the stupid thing fell somewhere unreachable when they tumbled down into this chamber. “Oh, I don’t need it. But how wonderful to know you’re a man of such conviction and fairness.” He tips the mysteriously-reappeared hat and turns, striding over to a lever. “Now, what do you say we get out of here? As amusing as this little interlude has been, we’re both very busy men.”

“Ugh.” Noctis leans against the wall and watches as Ardyn pulls the lever. The ground beneath them rumbles in a distinctly familiar and unwelcome fashion; Noctis reaches for a dagger to warp, wondering if he can get to Ardyn in time to grab him before the ground does what he’s almost certain it’s going to and starts turning. Leaving them suspended over a gaping chasm of some kind, because, honestly, how bored _were_ they in old Solheim? How much free time did these people have, anyway?

_And why so many spikes?_

But the ground doesn’t fall away or rotate; it lifts, like an elevator, carrying them up.

“You’re _kidding_ me,” Noctis growls, annoyed, arms crossed over his chest. “No way. Do not even tell me this was here the whole time!”

“Well, yes, of course it was,” Ardyn says, cheerfully. “But don’t worry, Your Majesty. To take it straight to the treasure, what sort of challenge is that?”

“The convenient kind, where I don’t nearly end up impaled on a spike?”

Ardyn’s laugh is low and warm. “Pity.”

“I don’t know if that was a sex joke, or if you want me dead,” Noctis says, as the elevator rises and the scent of fresh air hits his nose.

“Would you like me to tell you?”

“Sure,” Noctis says, “If I believed you’d tell me the truth. Since I don’t, you can just shut up.”

“As you wish,” Ardyn says, completely ignoring him. “You’ll find out soon enough anyway, won’t you?” He sweeps Noctis a bow. “As ever, it’s been a pleasure, Your Majesty. I shall be waiting with bated breath until our next encounter.”

“At least someone will,” Noctis says, and Ardyn laughs again before turning and striding off, into the dark. He wonders where Ardyn is going, if the Empire is nearby with a dreadnaught full of MTs waiting to capture them.

But there’s nothing but the quiet sounds of the night around him, broken only by the call of his friends and the sounds of them running, as ever, to his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Both the Pitioss dungeon _and_ Dark Castles are dead to me. DEAD.


End file.
